


A Proposal

by holhorsinaround



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Jadearra is there in conversation only, Loa communion, Marriage, Other, Pining, Ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holhorsinaround/pseuds/holhorsinaround
Summary: When you've gone your whole life fearing your relationships and fearing commitment, what do you do when you realize you love someone?





	A Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Monkarama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkarama/gifts).



He had arrived home far before Jadearra would. He knew he would have the night to himself before her arrival the next morning. That’s all he needed. If he were going to go through with his plans, he would need a reprieve from the world, and he would need a moment that allowed him to breathe anew.

There were many that his tribe gave worship to for many reasons outside of their Patrons. One such was Bak'ae, a rather mysterious Loa called upon in times needing great courage. He was divine, and though many saw him as bloodthirsty, that was not all that he was. He was mysterious, and through worship and ritual to him, one received his blessings, allowing them to achieve great things. He always held a fair price, however… he was not warmongering. He was not indecent.

No, instead…

Alar had shut off all the light save for two candles– one for each side– and laid out a small ritual cloth woven from thin cotton threads dyed red with gold and silver embellishments along the hem. That day he had picked up a few many things, not all regarding his solitary worship, but most.

Once returning home, he had disrobed; he’d left his clothing sitting across Jadearra’s bed, and instead had wrapped himself in a traditional Bak'ae gown. Loose flowing, sheer, and unbleached, the off white fabric hung to his body, wrapped about himself, secured into place. He, admittedly, had not worn the traditional garb since he’d moved to Orgrimmar. And only once before that, when he was first stepping into Druidism, had he worn it then. Third time was, as they say, the charm.

He knelt; before him, at the top center of the cloth between the two candles, he placed a small, palm size box. Within it was a truesilver band– an ore that Alar regarded fondly– that contained three gems: one Arkonite, that allowed a faint purple glow about it, concentrated about the crystal, and two Draenethyst, blue and vibrant though not blinding. All three in fact were hardly visible, but the glow betrayed the faint properties still within the crystals.

On the wood of her floor, he had sat down a smaller container and laid within it dry herbs and rose petals, then lit them. The smoke filled the room, but did not overpower; and thankfully, it did not set off his allergies.

In front of him, between the box with the ring and himself, he placed down a plate. It was one of Jadearra’s, simple in design. No embellishments. Upon it he had laid out a gift: a cluster of grapes, deep purple and rich, juicy; slices of a blood orange, the juice dripping still from where he’d sliced it; nuts– walnuts, specifically, deep and rich and nutritious; and, finally a large red apple, sliced and placed alongside the blood orange slices. It was the best he could do, considering the fruit vendors of Stormwind did not supply his tribe’s native fruit. Unfortunate, but… expected.

He let out an exhale, already feeling nervous. He continued; to his left he placed a bottle of wine, no small fortune, but not cheap neither. It was dark, fruity, and in the sunlight when he held it up to the sky, it appeared to be thick, red, much like blood. It would do. To his right… a simple glass, also borrowed from Jadearra’s pantry.

Now, he began to murmur, quiet and barely audible, but that would do; the words were in Zandali, holding the language’s accenting and nomenclature of his tribe. “Great Bak'ae, Loa of Courage, Love, Madness,” he started, his fingers working to uncork the bottle. “I seek your guidance… your faith and your blessing. There’s a woman… I love her.”

He looked down at the cloth, at the display in front of him, his knees. He reached for the glass and began to pour. “And I… wish to do something I never thought I would do. And after the last time… I was certain I would no longer wish to.” He spoke slowly, watching the wine fill the glass. “I’m afraid…” he began, eyes closing. He tilted the bottle back and sat it down beside him. Then the glass… he sat it beside the plate of food.

“But I’m also, beyond words, finding myself wanting to spend my life with her. This is something I have not felt in years, and before then, not at all.” He leaned back, letting himself sit, then brought his knees to his chest. The fabric hung about him, light like a breeze.

“I know she feels the same… that is not why I’m invoking you tonight.” His eyes lingered on the box, closing, then opening once more. “I… wish to ask her to be my life mate. I am afraid,” he repeated, quiet. “…I’m so out of touch from myself. And if I make her my mate, I wish to be myself. I wish to reconnect with who I was, where my roots lie… but…” There were always buts, he thought, his eyes closing.

He felt something about him, though, a small breeze. It was chilly at first, but he did not feel himself shiver.

“But… I do not wish to follow the path of aggression, of war, of hatred that… my father held. I wish to be more like my mother– kind, always seeking an answer that was not domination. And at the same time…”

He paused, feeling the stirring once more, breezy, causing the hem of his robe to flutter. He lowered his eyes, his voice becoming more of a whisper. “I wish to be myself, too… I don’t want to become my mother, either.”

_Then do not._

He opened his eyes wider, looking up. Before him, faint, but visible, a ghost of an outline knelt across from him. Large, a Gurubashi silhouette for sure; coils of hair sat atop their head, tusks– mirroring his, in many ways– curled up across his cheekbones. He sat in the same form of pose as Alar did, knees at his chest, nude save for a wrapping of sheer fabric, though this was darker, stained red. The incense wafted up between them, and the figure reached out through the smoke to touch along the juice on the plate. It streaked under his finger, though the fruit merely went through him.

Starstruck, but quickly gathering himself, Alar bowed his head, eyes closing. “Bak'ae… I want to be good– to do good. I don’t want redemption, but…”

_You wish for her to love you, yes?_

“I do…”

_And does she?_

“She does!” he answered, a bit quick. He paused, his eyes glancing to the sides, arms tightening around his knees. “She does.”

_Then why do you falter?_

“I… I feel afraid.”

_…But Why?_

He … stopped. He didn’t have a clear answer.

“I don’t know.”

Bak'ae touched his fingers across the offerings, then to the small box that held the ring for Jadearra. The juice did not streak this time. _Then give to her the band, and let her answer._

He smiled, faintly visible. His fingers trailed once more across the offerings, this time to the glass of wine.

_You have not spoken to me within ages. You’ve grown into a fine adult. Your mother was right to send you away._

“What do you mean…?”

_Return to the Grove. Your answers may lie there._

Gods and Loa always spoke in riddles. It left him conflicted.

_You’ve done far better for yourself than you could have done on the island, I mean._

His fingers raised from the glass; wine dripped from their ghostly form, deep and red. Blood like, just as Alar had hoped. They raised up and brushed across his cheek, streaking Alar’s cheekbone with color.

_Do not fear with Jadearra._ Alar froze; he hadn’t mentioned Jade’s name, but having it spoken instilled that fear into him once more before it gave way to warmth, blossoming from his chest upward. _She loves you dearly– You don’t need me telling you though. Now, enjoy my feast for me, my devotee. I know how you hate waste._

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece from the latter end of 2018, this time involving one of Alar's partners, Jadearra. He asked her to be his life-mate this year, in December, and this is directly leading up to that decision.  
> Bak'ae is a WoW Loa of my own design and creation, be kind!


End file.
